


Minewt Writer Telephone

by minewtbang



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, Multiple Authors, Theme: Summer, Writer's Telephone
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-07-02
Packaged: 2018-07-19 04:39:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 12,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7345255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/minewtbang/pseuds/minewtbang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eight tales of summer by eight authors, connected through final and first lines.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By [tmrminewt](http://tmrminewt.tumblr.com) ([ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/commodorenewt/pseuds/tmrminewt))

"Did you really have to bring homework along?" Thomas heard Minho ask Newt. "You do realize why you're here, right?"

Thomas looked over his shoulder and found Newt batting Minho's hands away from his laptop. "To past the time while you shanks frolic in Summer Paradise as Tommy put it?" Newt asked, Minho rolled his eyes. "I don't need a break, I just came from one." Newt frowned, his eyes trained on whatever was on the screen. Minho rolled his eyes again, before attempting to close the laptop again. "Minho." Newt said sternly.

Minho sighed, before raising his hands in mock surrender. "Yeah, but that wasn't a break with us!" Minho told him. He could hear Alby cursing at Gally for pushing him in the water while the other was laughing his ass off. "You're gonna look weird working on a laptop on the beach, Izzy."

"Speak for yourself, we're the only people here." Newt snorted, pushing his boyfriend away. "Go and have fun, I'll finish this up as soon as I can."Minho tipped his head up and pecked Newt's lips. "You got 5 minutes until I drag you in the water, you hear?"

"I'd like to see you try." Newt said after him. 

Thomas watched them, smiling slightly. It's been a long journey for the both of them to get to where they are now. He could hear Ava at the back of his mind, ominously saying that they still had a long way to go. True but still, the progress they made, their relationship was good. It was certainly better than them dancing around each other.

Minho grabbed the surfing boards and went over to him. "Are you gonna stare at Newt all day or are you ready to get your ass handed to you at surfing?"

"I wasn't staring." Thomas frowned. "And the last time we did this, I remember someone getting his ass kicked wave after wave."

"And I remember someone too scared to get in the water." Minho shoved the extra board in his hands

"How did you even talk me into this?" Thomas grumbled, "I was supposed to help Frypan with cooking."

"Shuck that, Fry can handle it." Minho said, shoving him forward.

After 5 minutes, on the dot, Minho stopped trying to dunk Thomas and headed over to Newt who was still buried behind his readings. "Minho, one more page."

"One more page of what?" Minho frowned and grabbed the laptop of him. "Are you serious right now?" Minho gave him a dry look. "You're reading manga at a time like this?! I thought you were reading reports!"

"We're having a day off, aren't we?" Newt grabbed the laptop from him and looked at the screen again. "Perfect time, if you ask me."

"How do you even have internet?" Minho asked. Newt shrugged. "C'mon, we're wasting our time."

Newt huffed, "Fine, fine. I can't stand the cliff hanger anyway, I'll read it when the new chapter comes out." Newt closed the laptop and slipped it inside his bag. He removed his shirt and pulled Minho to the water. "Are you teaching Tommy how to surf? The shank can't even swim."

Hours passed and Minho and Newt were left seated near the shore while the others decided to build their own sandcastles and then it somehow into a water gun fight. Where they got it, Newt didn't bother to find out. "We should do this more often." Newt told Minho who just grabbed two cans of beer from the cooler.

"Leave the children to their own devices?" Minho asked, following Newt's line of sight.

"No, this, taking a day off."

"I thought you didn't need a break?"

"No, I don't but you guys obviously do." Newt leaned back on his hands and looked at Minho. "But this place is nice, is it like that 'paradise'?"

"There wasn't any beaches there." Minho told him. "Or we didn't look that far enough to see the beaches." Minho grimaced at the memories that Newt's question reminded him. "It wasn't really paradise there, not like it sounded."

"It was a safe haven though."

"You weren't there." Minho said quietly. "It was just a safe haven, not paradise.”

Newt was speechless for a moment, trying to come up with a response. Leave it to him to dampen the mood. He wanted to apologise, try lightening the mood by telling him how fucking sappy he was being. But the atmosphere was already solemn. He shouldn't have brought up the sore subject of their past lives. It wasn't even relevant now. He reached out to take Minho's hand in his. "We should do this more often, this is nice." Newt said, squeezing Minho's hand gently.

"We won't have the same exclusivity there, you know that, right?"

Newt nodded. "Yeah, but all fun and no play will make all our output shoddy, right?"

Minho rolled his eyes and looked at their friends. "I guess you're right."

Dark clouds began to gather in an alarming rate. "It'll be good day, he said." Minho muttered as he grabbed the bags from Newt. "It won't rain, he said."

"Oh, stop, at least we got to spend the day on the beach, right?" Newt asked, picking up another bag.

Minho threw him a sour look. "Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Rain began to pour hard, soaking all of them.

"Whose bright idea was it to let Thomas plan this again?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By [newtiegotbooty](http://newtiegotbooty.tumblr.com) ([ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/NewtiegotBooty/pseuds/NewtiegotBooty))

“Whose brilliant idea was it to let Thomas plan this again?” Newt asked, clearly irritated, as he stripped out of his soaking wet shirt. Minho was staring at him when he looked up. Newt raised a brow and cleared his throat.

“Sorry, what?” Minho asked, trying for innocence. Newt didn’t buy it for a second.

“Oh, um, I think we all unanimously agreed?” Minho said a moment later, apparently having processed what Newt had asked.

“Well, we’re all bloody morons, aren’t we?”

“Speak for yourself, Newt, I disagreed the moment he suggested camping.” Brenda hadn’t gone out to the lake like everyone else, opting to stay inside and do her own 

“Well aren’t you a bloody genius then.”

“Some one’s grouchy.” Brenda muttered.

“I hate getting wet. I hate rain, and I hate camping, and it’s all Thomas’ fault.” Newt snapped, stalking off down the hall to an unoccupied room.

“You’re boyfriend’s a diva.” Brenda told Minho, turning a page in her book.

“He’s not a diva, he’s just picky.” Minho followed him down the hall, glancing over his shoulder when the door opened and Thomas came in.

“Okay, good news: I got firewood. Bad news: it’s kinda wet.”

Minho rolled his eyes and knocked on the door. “Newt? Can I come in?”

“I can’t bloody well keep you out, we share the room.”

Minho took that as an invitation to go in. Newt was curled up on the bed, covered in blankets.

“Cold, babe?”

Newt glared at him. “Yes.”

Minho smiled. “I could warm you up.” He climbed up on the bed and wormed his way into the blankets.

“No, Minho, Tommy and Brenda are right in the other room.”

Minho scoffed. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Newt, I was just gonna snuggle you.”

“ _My_ mind is in the gutter?” Newt looked back at him, raising a brow. Minho only smiled. 

They were quiet for a while, Minho wrapped around Newt, Newt’s head tucked against Minho’s neck.

“Are you warm now?”

Newt nodded, eyes closed and he nuzzled closer to his boyfriend.

 

It rained for the rest of the day, caps of thunder right over the cabin startling them all from time to time. Minho and Newt stayed curled up in their rom for the most part, falling asleep in each other’s arms and talking quietly when they woke.

“Hey, guys!” Thomas called from the front of the cabin. “It stopped raining!”

Newt grumbled against Minho’s chest, face pressed somewhere below his collarbones, and wrapped his arms tighter around Minho’s waist.

“Come on, we can go for a hike or something!” Thomas was far too enthusiastic about 

“C’mon, babe, it’ll be fun.” Minho jostled him a little, nosing at Newt’s forehead to get him to look up.

Newt groaned. “I don’t _wanna_ …” He whined petulantly.

“I know you don’t wanna, but we came out here to get some fresh air and have fun.”

“We’re having plenty of fun napping together…” Newt replied, trying to worm his way back into Minho’s arms.

“Baby, come on.” Minho sat up, forcing Newt to do the same, and cupped the blond’s face. “For me?”

Newt sighed, far more dramatically than was necessary, and rolled himself out of bed. 

“ _Fine_.”

Minho smiled. “I promise it’ll be fun.” He rose from the bed and they got dressed, meeting Thomas and Brenda out front.

 

They hiked most of the trail together, but about halfway up, Minho and Newt went off on their own.

“Babe, look.” Minho pointed out a path, winding through the brush and uphill.

“I’m not going through there. There’s bound to be poison ivy. You know how badly I react to poison ivy.”

Minho rolled his eyes. “What if I carry you?”

Newt raised a brow. “You don’t know how far it goes.”

“So? I could carry you for miles, twiggy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Newt pouted.

“Oh, fine, be that way.” Minho turned toward the path and started through it.

“Wait! Don’t just leave me here!” Newt darted forward, stopping at the edge of the hiking trail. Minho smirked as he turned back around.

“Alright, come on.” He shifted his backpack around, hoisting Newt up onto his back.

“Don’t get a big head over this.” Newt mumbled, arms around Minho’s neck.

“Oh, I won’t. You’ll be sure of it.”

 

Half an hour later, they broke through the trees into a field of flowers. He let Newt back onto the ground and pointed to the oak tree in the middle of the field.

“I’ll race you.” He grinned when Newt raised a brow. They took off at the same time and stayed neck and neck the whole time.

“What would you have done if I’d won?” Newt asked, sprawled in the grass under the shade, idly braiding flower stems together. Minho shrugged.

“Dunno. Whatever you wanted, probably.” He was kneeling in front of the tree, tongue poking out of his mouth as he carved something into the bark.

Newt smiled, turning to curiosity when he turned to look at his boyfriend. “What are you doing?”

Minho turned after a moment, proudly presenting the crude heart. “It’s us!”

On a second look, Newt noticed the ‘M+N’ inside. “Oh, Minho… You’re so sweet…” He held up the flower crown after a moment. Minho took it and placed it on the blond’s head.

“You look beautiful, Newt.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By [emmaandorlando](http://emmaandorlando.tumblr.com) ([ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/emma_and_orlando/pseuds/emma_and_orlando))

"You look beautiful, Newt." 

Tears appeared in Newt's eyes. The pain in his aching heart making his breath come out in gasps. 

He felt like he was one second away from having a panic attack. 

Toned arms gently wrap around his middle, easing him into a calming hug. 

"You always look so beautiful." The husky voice praises. Showing only but affection and pure love. 

Newt was crying now. Cursing himself for being weak. He knew that this was coming. Deep down he knew how this would end.

He turned into the embrace and wrapped his arms around his lovers neck. 

"I don't want to go." He sobbed. Eyes squeezed closed, as he couldn't let go. He couldn't just go yet. 

"I know. I know and I love you." His lover started to rock him in his arms. 

Uncaring for the tears staining his clothes. 

Newt's legs were trembling. Minho's warm hands grasping at his hips. Leaving marks on the white silk-laced dress. 

"I can't go. I can't. I can't. I can't. I need you, Minho." He cries. And doesn't know how to stop. 

Minho held him tighter. The pain of losing each other was overwhelming. And Newt couldn't decide whether was worse, dying or leaving. 

"You have no choice, my Angel. I wish you had, but-" Minho pushed his chin up gently. Looking into the teary sad eyes. "There are people waiting for you. Your people are waiting for you. And they need you." 

He wiped the tears away from Newt's rosy cheeks. Only to be replaced by fresh ones. 

"B-but I need you. Minho. I need you. Come with me." 

Minho smiled gently, both hands cupping Newt's youthful face. "You know I can't, My love. I would have- if it were an option." 

Newt shook his head. "We can run away. You and me." 

Minho opened his mouth to answer, but there was a loud knock on the door.

"Prince Newton, we need you at the ceremony." 

Newt took a deep calming breath before answering shakily. "Five- just please... give me five minutes." 

"Fine." Came the stern reply. 

They waited until they heard footsteps slowly distancing. Making the place completely silent again. 

Newt turned back to Minho. Looking absolutely stunning in his long elegant dress. Hair updone and beautiful white flowers woven in. 

"You're beautiful," He smiled. Keeping a save distance between them. "You're my beautiful Angel... but not meant for me no more. Not in this life."

Newt started shaking again. Wondering how he could convince Minho to run away. To stay together.

He couldn't imagine Minho just leaving him. He couldn't believe that would happen.

"Go to your fiancé, my Angel you will always be mine. Deep down I know, your love is mine only."  

Newt clutched Minho back in a embrace. This time determined not to let go. "P-please. I can't. Don't make me. Don't do this to us." 

The slave pulled away from the prince. Eyes drifting to the door. 

"There is a wedding waiting for you, my Prince. And I have no place here anymore." 

Newt cried harder. Reaching for Minho, but his arms were pushed away. 

"For your own good, My Prince." 

Minho stepped away, bowing deeply for Newt before making his way to the door. Only to never come back.

But Newt couldn't let him go. Not yet.

"He'll hurt me!" Newt tried desperately.

"I know it. You know his reputation. He'll rape me. He'll abuse me. I'll die." 

He couldn't help himself anymore, but trying to get to Minho. Trying to make him please, please understand. 

"He'll hurt me. Take me away, Minho." Newt sobbed. Falling to his knees. "Take me away. I belong with you." 

Minho seemed to finally- finally- hesitate in his presence. 

"You belong with your people, My Angel." Minho said matter of factly. Biting his lower lip. 

Newt shook his head. Still on his knees. Not having enough pride- and too much deep rooted love to keep himself from begging. 

"I can't belong in a world without you, Minho. What is a world without you?" 

Minho came closer. Eyes casted down to Newt. "I'm but a slave, my love. I have nothing to offer you." 

Newt shook his head. "Please. Please Minho. I have nothing to offer you either. I have my soul and my body. Don't let them take that away from me." 

Minho kneeled down to him. Feeling the stone cold floors scrap his knees, ruining Newt's wedding dress. 

He cupped the rosy cheeks again. 

"You need to be, absolutely, totally, sure. We can't-" Minho sighed and rubbed his thumb over Newt's lips. A hopeful glint in his eyes. "We can't do this if you aren't sure." 

Newt sniffled. "I'm begging you. Please believe me. I want this. I can't marry him. I can't marry anyone but you." 

Minho pulled him in for a hug. Both still on the ground. 

"I can't believe I am agreeing to this foolishness. But my Angel, I won't let you down." 

Newt kissed Minho gently. "You're by far the most interesting slave I've ever had." 

Minho smiled, kissing the prince softy again. "You're by far the most cheeky and stubborn prince I've served." 

\---

Newt felt the ice biting at his skin as he silently watched Minho saddling the horse for their journey. Packing the animal with their little amount of belongings. 

The cold was strong and icy. There was a tense aura around the castle. Which shouldn't hang there, on a wedding day. 

Newt could only imagine what was going on there right now. Many will start to wonder where the prince was. Wondering when or if the ceremony was taking place. 

Imagine his fiancé's face, he didn't dare to. Scared it would haunt his nightmares. 

"Get on, my Angel. If the Kings army don't kill us soon, the cold might." 

Newt let's Minho pull him on the horse. And took place behind his place. 

Minho may have been taught to put a saddle on a horse, but as a prince Newt had learned to ride the animal. 

Minho reached around Newt's waist to keep himself grounded, while the horse made a swift move towards the forest. 

Newt kept the pace, silent against the cold grass, fast and fearless they made itthrough the forest. Needing to make it outside the city before dawn. Needed to make it to the great river to wash away their scents. For the dogs would catch them. 

Only if they made it there they could survive this. 

Only if they stayed together.

The horse was getting tired. It's body cold from the freezing weather. It's muscles aching in its battle to keep going. 

Minho was beyond exhausted. 

In his years as a slave had worked until he collapsed before. He had walked until his feet were bleeding. He had ran until he lost consciousness from dehydration. 

And still nothing compared to the chase for freedom. 

For safety.

Newt was shaking. Minho could feel him shaking. Cold. Adrenaline. And the strain for freedom. 

Freedom. 

Newt stopped the horse. So abruptly that Minho thought they were caught.

Minho thought they were dead. 

And his first instinct was to squeeze Newt closer. Closing his eyes to feel a sword bearing into his body. Or a arrow poking his heart.

But- the sound of water, of moving water rang through his ears. Chills through his bones. 

They weren't caught. They were save- almost save. 

Newt slid off the horse, followed by Minho. 

Their legs trembling in the cold and the long ride catching up on them. 

But they had to make it over the river. And fast. 

"M-made it..." Newt says, useless to say. Bur he felt like he needed to make it more real, for it didn't feel real at all. 

Together they watched the wild river in front of them. Not yet frozen, but the water cold as ice.

They immediately unpacked the horse from their little amount of belongings and carried it up to the river. 

The horse wouldn't move along to the river. So they let the animal to go home. 

As beautiful and loyal as it always had been.

"W-we gotta s-surv-vive this r-river. M-my Angel." 

Newt nodded. Giving Minho a very soft and dry chapped lips kiss. Before making his way to the river side. 

Slowly taking the heavy pack on his shoulders. And took the first steps into the cold water. 

With a cry of cold and biting pain Newt's full body landed into the river. Barely holding onto his package. 

But Minho followed immediately. Pushing Newt towards safety of the other side. 

His arms guided Newt. His body a shield against the streaming water and the unnerving cold. 

The water tried to lead them down the mountains. To the sharp rocks that would kill them. 

Minho needed all his strength and energy to keep them both from going along with the stream. 

When the feeling of a million needles stinging into their bodies started to become too much- finally-

Finally- they made it to the riverside. They finally arrived at safety.

Minho pushed Newt on the edge. Out of the cold and killing water. 

Minho climbed on as well. Gasping for air and the stain of relief and-

Freedom. 

Minho rolled over. His package lost as well as Newt's. Lost in the cold and horrible water.

He maneuvered his arm around Newt's waist. The used-to-be Prince curled up around his used-to-be Slave. 

Eyes closing as darkness started to pull over them. 

They may survive tomorrow. They may not survive tonight. They may live forever. They may die right now.

But as Newt could feel Minho breathing and hear his heart beat in an uneven painful pace. He knew that it didn't matter. For they had each other.

"We made it." Newt whispers with his eyes falling close. 

"Finally. We're free..."


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By [aethelia](http://aethelia.tumblr.com) ([ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/aethelia/pseuds/aethelia))

"Finally. We're free…" 

 If it were possible, he would have leaned his head back, eager to relieve his neck the heavy burden it carried. But all he could do now was to press his blond hair further into the grassy fields, hoping his actions would somehow bring out the anticipated outcome.

It didn't.

Instead, he opened his eyes - when had they even closed? - and waited for them to adjust to the blinding sun. 

You'd think that after being stuck in the same institution for years, the first place they'd want to go wouldn't be on the grassy fields, but somewhere far, far away.

At least it was far away enough from the site of tears, flowers, and cameras that no emotional parent would see two men, still decked in green graduation gowns, and eagerly head over to drag them to in front of the cameras, forcing immediate actions of smiles and shallow promises. 

"Free, eh?" The dark haired boy lying beside him turned to face him, the corners of his lips quirked up slightly, enough so that only those who truly knew him could understand his contentment. 

Newt chose not to answer, and instead reached into his gown and pulled out a cigarette. He brought it up over his eyes, seeing how effective the thin stick could be in terms of blocking the sun for him before putting it between his lips.

Without a word, a small flame, followed by tanned hands entered his field of vision, and lit the cigarette. This time, he was the one to turn, but he shifted so he was lying on his sides. The sun was in just the right spot, and in that moment his lover’s face glowed, and he looked like he was a child of fire. 

He took the cigarette out and exhaled, loving how the man before him immediately parted his lips, already desiring to take in the air he’d breathed out. Mindlessly, he stubbed the end onto the grass, lips pulling into a smirk, because the Ratman could no longer lecture them on why harm shouldn’t be done to the school’s beautifully grown (and expensive) grass fields. 

“Fuck this melancholy shit,” The Asian sat straight up and ran his hands through his hair before staring into Newt’s eyes. “In this world, only you and I exist, baby. _We’re free._ ” 

 Newt cracked a smile, and allowed himself to be pulled up to meet another pair of lips halfway through. It was a simple pressing of lips, but the sound of their lips parting made Newt lean forward, trying to find those lips again. 

“Min,” he whispered warningly when Minho tried to lure him to lie on his body. The other man chuckled, but stopped moving, and their lips met again. Their second kiss was longer; teeth nipping at each other’s bottom lip teasingly, pulling away only to rub their noses together affectionately. 

Sighing, he detangled himself and stood up, swiftly pulling of his gown to reveal his white button down shirt, ends tucked into his slacks. 

“If I was a parent who happened to look this way, I would have thought you were just a horny student trying to get a little frisky on school grounds one last time, Mr. Park.” He remained on the grass, eyes trailing satisfactorily down Newt’s body. Minho always had a thing for seeing him in formal wear, and Newt _loved_ to take advantage of that fact.

“Well, Mr. Newton,” Newt licked his lips and stood over Minho, “if you really want to be free, maybe we should… _ruin these lovely grass fields a little more,_ don’t you think?” 

Minho let out a bark of laughter. “You really think they’ll fire us for having sex here? When school’s already finished?”  
“You never know until you try,” Newt straddled Minho, and lowered his head to press kisses against his neck. “You hate it here anyways.” 

“Those shanks are pretty terrible,” Minho agreed, and rested his hand on Newt’s lower back. “I think we should quit.” The blonde stiffened and paused his ministrations, pulling back to look at the man under him. 

“Min…deadline was a few weeks ago, Paige will kill you for making her look for replacements _now.”_

“I know, I know,” but the distant, ponderous look in his eyes told Newt that he was already thinking of ways to cajole Paige into letting them go.

“What would we even do?” Newt couldn’t deny how tempting the idea was, to leave behind their life here and head off into the world, but there were just too many things he had to think about. They weren’t teenagers anymore; they had responsibilities to take care of.  
“Maybe we can’t quit…” Minho said absentmindedly, no sign that he had even heard Newt’s question. “But we certainly have the whole summer, don’t we?” 

Minho had always been the more spontaneous one out of the two of them; the one who relied more on his instincts than his brain. Reason was Newt’s forte; the one to remind him of the real life obstacles they faced.

“…You’re really going to try and buy tickets _now?”_

The smile Minho directed towards him reminded him of their own high school days; when Minho used his looks and charms to string Newt along with his crazy plans. That boyish look lingered, even after years had passed them by.

“Who said anything about buying tickets?” Minho’s hands wandered up and down his back, and one ultimately made its way to the his nape, stroking gently and comforting.

Newt sighed, and lowered himself so he could rest directly over the steady heartbeat. He’d learned over the years that Minho would tell him things at his own pace, and he was certain that this would be no different.

Minho maneuvered his way so he could sit up, one arm around Newt to make sure he didn’t fall. He produced an envelope from seemingly nowhere and waved it before Newt’s eyes. 

“I was thinking we’d make our way from your home all the way to the ends of the world.” His tone was nonchalant, casual, and even confident, but hidden beneath all of that were hints of uncertainty and anxiety. 

“I guess if I was to get lost in this world, I’d be lucky to get lost with you.” Newt burrowed his head into Minho’s neck, as the two stayed in their own bubble, oblivious to all the rowdy kids they were finally free off, and how sweat was already trickling down their skin due to the overbearing heat combined with the stuffy dark-colored gown and their intimacy. 

“I have a feeling we’d be good at finding our way out…” 

Who cared about how they’d have to continue dealing with hormonal, rude obnoxious high school students when school started? They still had a few months to go, and Newt really did feel free.

He could finally breathe in the fresh summer air. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By [why-i-like-math-and-stuff](http://why-i-like-math-and-stuff.tumblr.com)

He could finally breathe in the fresh summer air. It brought Isaac memories of when his family was a whole piece; when his father wasn’t such an asshat. It caused a bittersweet feeling to conjure within him.

It also reminded him of when he was sitting on an old couch in the alley behind a club, pondering what he would do with his life. It had been two years ago, after Isaac had run away from his father when he learned that he would be inheriting the family business. Isaac was incredibly angry because he was knew his father knew three things: Isaac had no interest in having any involvement in the business,  Isaac was more interested in science over any other subject, and Isaac would rather have taken a cut of the millions of dollars his father had. Nonetheless, his father was final in his decision. The facts that he was failing high school, and that even if he passed high school, his father would not fund him for college, weren’t exactly incentives for Isaac to stay.

He was able to reach San Francisco from London with the help of the pilot of his father’s private jet, Thomas. Thomas had told Isaac’s father that he had to take a day off to spend visit his wife, Theresa, and his son, Chuck, in San Francisco easily tricking the older man. He had lied, and was able to take Isaac to San Francisco and be back before the next day.

Isaac was still in Thomas’s debt.

When he arrived he had walked around until he found somewhere to rest and sleep for the next few days. Wherever he looked, he was able to see his face on newspapers. After he read a couple of newspapers, Isaac learned that the press was pitting him as a worthless, ungrateful, stupid, brat. It was a nice change from the image the press had conjured, allowing him to look like a teenage heartthrob, genius, and a perfect person.

Isaac had been good with chemicals back in high school (It had been his only A) and he enjoyed working with them too. Eventually, he figured that bartending may be a good way to fulfill his talents. He just thought of the alcohol as the chemicals and the myriad of beverages as the possible mixtures.

After writing up all his resumes, it took Isaac a while to find a legitimate job because, no one would hire a British boy without a visa (he could not fake an American accent). He was also a minor, but he was barely able to pull off being eighteen. It wasn’t until he met Brenda, the daughter of one of the local clubs owners while sitting at a table in a café. Isaac had been able to scrape up five dollars, just enough for him to buy a croissant and a cup of hot tea, two things he had been craving for the last few days. Brenda was his server and had decided to sit in front of him during her break. She was a short young woman, obviously of Hispanic heritage. She had short dark hair and dark eyes, making her pretty in a nice, but boyish manner.

She asked if he was the boy who had run away from his inheritance in England. Isaac was surprised because no one had even paid heed to him during the few days he had been in San Francisco. A waitress was the last person he expected.

Isaac denied his identity, until she asked what his name was. He told her his alias: Newt. Brenda mentioned knowing his name from his application he had sent in to her father’s club. She passed him a business card and told him to arrive sometime during open hours, and to tell the bouncer her name.

Newt went in two hours later, around eleven. He did as Brenda told him, and was waved into the mass of men and women dancing around him. Some of the women were grabbing onto the jacket around his shoulders, almost pulling it off of him.

Soon enough he reached the bar, where he was met by one of the bartenders.  At first, he wasn’t able to see his face, but when the woman turned around, Newt saw her bright blue eyes and instantly was aware of her identity. It was Theresa, which was odd, because Newt had thought she was a lawyer.

Theresa explained how she tended the bar to garner some extra money. At her home, Brenda was taking care of baby Chuck. When Newt asked why Theresa was so surprised (Thomas had told Newt that he would go visit his wife while in the city), the latter explained that there were some rough spots in their relationship. She was able to teach Newt how to make specific drinks and what to do while the bar was empty. Newt began to take a liking to the occupation and was actually enjoying himself. A few hours into the work, Jorge came down to meet Newt. He could see the similarities between Brenda and Jorge with their passionate eyes and serious, yet sarcastic personalities. Jorge told Newt that he was incredibly impressed with his skills, and that he wanted Newt to join the team of bartenders. Newt immediately accepted the offer and began his work.

A few months after Newt had gotten the job, Jorge discovered that Newt was the son of a business mogul, a minor, homeless, and did not have a visa. At first he was angry at the young man, but he didn’t call the cops, and eventually, he opened up a spot at his home, allowing Newt to take Brenda’s room after she left for college, did not bug Newt about his age anymore, and continued to let him work at the club.

Newt also changed over the two year time period. He went solely by his alias, and did not work for any actual money. He felt like the shelter and food provided was more than enough for him, even though Jorge insisted on compensating Newt’s labor with money. Newt also set up walls around himself, causing him to only be open to those who worked at the club with him. There were even rules he had set up for himself.

1\. He didn’t let anyone, man or woman, buy him a drink. Newt did drink the occasional beer, or shot, but that was as far as his alcohol consumption went while he was working.

2\. Newt did not leave his place behind the bar, unless it was an emergency, or if he had to go to the restroom. It kept him focused, and he was able to get less physical contact with strangers.

3\. He never let himself talk too much, or get too close. Newt new if he began to trust anyone else besides the four people he already trusted (Jorge, Thomas, Brenda, and Theresa) things could get even more complicated than they already were.

Newt woke up from his daily nap, inhaling the fresh summer breeze coming into his room from the open window. He couldn’t help but smile to himself and savor the sense of tranquility that was rushing over him. He checked his clock which displayed 21:00 in bright white numbers. Newt was relieved that he hadn’t woken up too late.

He pushed the covers off of himself, and went to the bathroom to shower and get ready for the night. When he came out, he was drying his hair with a towel and taking out his uniform: a pair of dark wash skinny jeans, a dark button up shirt, a maroon tie, and lace-up boots. When his hair was dry, he put on his uniform. Just as he was finished tying his shoelaces, his bedroom door opened. A flash of pink ran up to him and climbed up his legs and sat in his lap.

“Hey Kara,” Newt began, standing up to pick the young girl up. She leaned into his neck, allowing for her large, curly hair to tickle Newt’s neck. “Is something wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Have you had dinner yet?”

She shook her head again.

“Let’s go downstairs to eat.”

In her small voice, Kara replied, “Okay.”

Newt walked down the stairs, with the girl in his arms. When he arrived in the kitchen. Jorge had already prepared a pizza on the table, and an assortment of fruit. Newt placed Kara down on the chair and gave her a slice of pizza and a few grapes. He rubbed her hair affectionately and went to

Brenda, who was home from college for a few days, walked into the room, holding a two month year old baby, the youngest of Jorge’s children, Alec. The baby looked like Newt with matching blonde hair and hazel eyes. This was because he was not biologically Jorge’s, but had been found by Newt last month in a box behind Scorch. First, he turned Alec in into child services, and later Jorge adopted him.

Brenda ran in and dropped Alec off with Newt. Newt had to put down his slice of pizza to hold Alec properly. The baby cooed and started to grasp at the finger Newt had presented to him.

“Did you feed him yet?” Newt asked.

Brenda nodded because she had a mouth full of pizza. She added, “But I didn’t burp him,” after she swallowed.

Newt instantly pulled the baby up in a sitting position and began to gently pat Alec’s back, repeatedly. Newt cradled the child and began bouncing again after he heard the puff of air being released from the baby. Alec smiled and started gently patting Newt’s chest.

“Are you hungry?” Jorge asked.

“I’ll eat in the car,” Newt answered.

“Okay.” Jorge put the slice of pizza Newt was eating earlier on a plate, as well as a handful of blueberries.

“Hey, Alec,” Newt said, “It’s Newtie.” Newt bent his head down to get closer to Alec. The baby started to hit Newt’s nose. Both were smiling.

“Newt, stop ruining Alec with your British accent,” Brenda warned. She had finished her food and washed her hands. She signaled Newt to hand Alec back to her. Newt gave him to Brenda.

“Why did he stop smiling?” Brenda asked. Newt looked over to see that he was simply staring at her.

“That’s why you’re the only one that can make him fall asleep,” Newt explained, “You’re just that boring.”

Brenda rolled her eyes.

Jorge helped Kara finish her food. When her plate was clean, he pulled on his coat to go to the car. He had kissed his children goodbye and waved towards Newt to follow him.

“Bye Daddy!” Kara yelled. Newt saw Jorge turn around and smile.

“Is Theresa coming over to help?”

“Yeah,” she replied.

Things did not work out smoothly for Thomas and Theresa. It turned out the two of them had been using the same plan: to use each other as beards so there conservative parents would not disown them for being gay (bisexual, in Thomas’s case). As a result, the two of them had joint custody of Chuck, forcing Thomas to move to San Francisco so he could be a more present father. Theresa had started dating Brenda within a few months, while Thomas was alone, but crushing on one of the regular attendees at the club.

Newt gave Jorge a thumbs up and kissed the foreheads of the two younger children before he waved Brenda goodbye.

“Bye Newtie!” Kara continued. Newt blew her a kiss, and she copied his action.

Newt got into the car next to Jorge, and they talked while Newt was eating his dinner. They discussed politics, finances for the house and Scorch, how Newt was doing at his high school, and other topics.

As the two of them were arriving, Newt saw the customary line of people snake around the block. Jorge parked in the back parking lot. Jorge walked into the building, with Newt in tow.

“Did Brenda tell you that Theresa was coming over to the house to help her take care of the girls?”

Jorge stared at Newt. “Then you’re working twice as much,” he replied.

Newt sighed. He approached the bar where he and Theresa were supposed to be working, in the far back corner, usually the most popular spot because it was the one first seen by people when they walked in.

The setup of Scorch was easy to explain. There were two small bars, with two bartenders maintaining each, for a total of four bartenders during one night. In the middle of the club there was a large dance floor with the DJ booth in the middle of the back wall. Poles for the dancers were placed around the dance floor. Small tables and booths were put around the dance floor, with a few in the very middle. The entire area was always kept with dark lighting intentionally tinged red, except for the bars and DJ booths, which glowed luminescent whites, oranges, and yellows.

Newt tied his black apron around his waist, and then sat down on one of the stools behind the bar. He took a worn copy of The Lightning Thief from under the bar, and put it on the counter. The room is still normally lit, so he can see all of the dancers, the bouncers, the waiters and waitresses, the other two bartenders, and the DJ go to their positions. After they are settled, they all sit and talk to one another. Usually, during this time, Newt would be talking to Theresa. But because she wasn’t there, he was reading his book. He did not look up until Jorge gave the signal for five minutes until opening. The club gained its usual atmosphere, and Frypan, the DJ, began to play music. Newt could hear a couple of screams coming from outside. Then before he knew it, it was opening. He couldn’t help but put his book down and watch as almost half of the line got rejected. When Newt see’s their faces, it is obvious to him that they are young, and their fake IDs were probably horribly made. It was also the fact that the two bouncers, Alby and Gally were phenomenal at their jobs and it was almost impossible to pass by them with a fake ID.

As he’s watching the process, a woman knocks on the bar. Newt looks up to see it is a girl.

“Cosmo, double the vodka,” she simply stated.

“On the way,” Newt replied. He turned around to look at the shelves of alcohol behind him. He poured two shots of vodka, a swig of Triple Sec, and some lime and cranberry juice into a martini glass. He served it out to her in less than a minute.

She thanked him and paid. Newt saw that she left a dollar tip, which was about twenty percent.

More people came and went during the next few hours. The orders ranged from draft beers, to fancy wines, crude shots, and incredibly specific drinks. Two young men came up and flirted with Newt, but he simply ignored them, and told them that he was straight. There were also a handful of people who had becoming completely wasted. He found his conversations with them amusing. He considered himself an unlicensed therapist because sometimes the drunkards would pour out their life issues.

Then Thomas came over and sat on the stool in front of Newt.

“Hey, Newt,” he greeted.

“Hello, Tommy,” he replied as he polished some of the clear glasses.

“Are you okay?” Tommy asked him. He asks Newt the same question every time the converse.

Newt nodded, the same response he always gave him. Some tension in Tommy’s body was released. They talked for a bit too, while Newt was preparing more drinks for other customers. Conversation was normal until Newt noticed one particular young man staring at his friend.

“I think Aris is staring at you, Tommy,” he commented.

Thomas instantly turned around to see the young dark haired man with abnormal, but beautiful, pale grey eyes watching him. When he turned back around, Newt saw the blush appear and Tommy’s face. He had had a crush on Aris for some long period of time. It was actually the first thing that Tommy had told Newt when the former came to visit the latter at Scorch. Newt remembered Tommy saying something along the lines of, “Did you see him? With the dark hair and grey eyes? He is so beautiful, Newt.”

“What should I do?” Tommy asked Newt. Newt was surprised. It wasn’t as if he was a love expert. Yes, he was frequently offered to have drinks purchased for him, but he had never been in an actual relationship. It would break down the boundaries that he had set up for himself. Long story short, he knew nothing about love. Instead, he gave Tommy a monologue that could commonly be found in a stereotypical chick flick.

“You haven’t noticed before, Tommy?” Newt began, “he looks at you like you’re his sun, or his moon, or like you are every single star in the sky. I would die to have someone look at me like that. This is an opportunity you don’t want to miss out on. Remember, you regret the things you don’t do more than the things you did.”

Newt was relieved when Tommy legitimately seemed inspired by those lines of blasphemy and that he did not have to repeat what he had said. Tommy shoots Newt two thumbs up before running off into the sea of people to get to Aris.

But, if Aris hurt him, Newt would hurt Aris.

After Tommy was gone, Newt noticed that no one seemed to want a drink, because it was only an hour and a half before closing, and usually by then, things died down a little bit. He grabbed his book, and read.

“The Lightning Thief,” a male voice said, “Aren’t you a bit old for that?”

Newt took his gaze away from his book to look at the person in front of me. He was Asian, probably Korean. He looked to be incredibly tall, around Newt’s height, which was six feet. Dark hair was perfectly styled up, allowing for Newt to clearly see his large dark eyes which stared at Newt with mainly innocence and curiosity, and a twinge of mischief. To be honest, he was the most attractive man Newt had seen in a long while.

“Sure,” Newt blatantly replied, storing the book under the counter. “Now what can I get you?”

The man leaned over the counter so that he was closer to Newt’s face. Newt could observe the coffee brown color of his eyes that was complemented by sprinkles of gold. They were mesmerizing.

“Actually,” he admitted, “I was wondering what you wanted.”

“I’m sorry,” Newt said, pulling away, “I don’t swing that way.”

“You’re lying.”

“How would you know that?” Newt challenged.

“Thomas, Theresa, and Brenda,” he replied with a smirk.

It took a moment for Newt to process the information.

“You’re Minho Park?” Newt asked. The man nodded. “They’ve told me about you. Theresa’s trying to set me up with you.”

“Exactly,” Minho said, “And I want to try my luck with you myself.”

“I have no interests in dating right now,” Newt answered, “So what do you want?”

Minho looked slightly taken aback at Newt’s comment. But then he replied, “Jack Daniels over Coke, single, long.”

As Newt was making the drink, Minho continued to talk to him.

“Are you Isaac?”

“Who told you that?”

“You just look like Isaac Newton. I mean the son of the CEO, Janson Newton, not the scientist.”

“Everyone’s forgotten about that.”

“So you aren’t going to deny it?”

“Call me Newt.” Newt served Minho his drink, and then sat back down on his seat in front of him. Newt could have definitely moved to the other side of the bar, but Newt predicted that it would be of no use.

“Why did you leave Brighton?” Minho asked.

“Lack of interest,” Newt replied vaguely.

“How so?”

“Business and school.”

“I wouldn’t have left, if I had been you.”

“Why?” Newt questioned, slightly interested.

“Well, you would have to think about the future first, and not the desires which fill you in the present. I mean, if you dislike the business, I wouldn’t blame you because I also couldn’t handle having a desk job for the rest of my life, just remember that you are in it for the money, not for the pleasure. If you couldn’t have seen already, you really do not have to do much as a head of a business, just make reasonable decisions, sign some papers, and look pretty at public places. Then after a few years of that shit, you’re out and free to do what you want, even if it is,” Minho concluded, gesturing towards Newt, “Bartending.”

“First, I actually want to be a chemist,” Then Newt left a blank of time where the only sounds that could be heard were occasional screams over the thumping bass and music. “And secondly,” he continued, much quieter, “I never considered it in that manner.” He paused again. “I should have been more understanding,” Newt muttered to himself. Unknowingly to him, he had spoken loud enough 

“It’s okay, Newt,” Minho comforted, “You were an angry teenager at the time.”

“No, it isn’t,” he admitted, “There is nothing right with running away from your issues. You’re right. I should have faced my issues head on, like the man I should be.”

“This is not what I wanted to happen,” Minho said, “It was just meant to be a conversation starter.”

Newt was then knocked out of his state of concentration, as he realized that Minho’s prospect was to get with Newt.

“Never mind, then,” Newt concluded.

“You have some type of cover you hide behind,” Minho commented after he finished his drink, “It makes you interesting.”

“If that was an attempt to pick me up, then that was really weak.”

Minho’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “That usually does work.”

Newt laughed. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” To be partially honest, he could see why the one liner would work on some people. Minho was broad shouldered. His body was toned and muscled, making him seem like a great cuddler, which was the main thing Newt enjoyed in a relationship.

“Fine,” Minho said, “I’ll try harder. You have beautiful hazel eyes, with silver flecks within the irises. Your messy blonde hair reflects your puppy like attitude, and-”

“Wait,” Newt interrupted, “Nothing I have done shows you that I am anything like a puppy.”

“Thomas, Theresa, and Brenda,” Minho repeated.

“How much did they tell you?”

“A lot. They told me your preferences, your personality, and voiced your intelligence. But don’t worry, they didn’t tell me about your background. Our friends aren’t that deceptive.”

Newt didn’t like the fact that a total stranger knew so much about him. He was now curious about the other man.

“How about you?” he asked.

“You’re going to have to go out on a date with me to find out,” Minho replied.

Newt rolled his eyes.

“My flattery had no effect on you?”

Newt shook his head.

“How about you tell me about your cover, Newton,” Minho leaned in towards Newt for the second time, “Please?”

He could feel the other man’s breath on his lips, and it made him extremely uncomfortable, yet unravel a knot of desire in his heart. Newt caved.

“This club is my life. I live with Jorge, as you probably know, and work as a bartender when she’s open. I don’t take money, because having the feeling of hospitality whenever I wake up is what I truly want. The cover that you see today is a set of rules I set up so nothing bad happens to me. I simply do not a) allow people to purchase drinks for me, b) leave my position behind the bar, or most importantly, c) get too close to customers.”

Newt sat in silence and waited for Minho to react. Half of him was expecting laughter, which was not the response he received. Minho, instead, continued to ask questions. His inquiry began to irritate Newt. After a few questions, Newt decided to put his hand on Minho’s mouth to shut him up.

“What kind of music do you like?” Newt asked to divert Minho away from his cover.

Minho grabbed Newt’s hand to take off of his mouth, but did not release it from his grip. This bothered Newt. He struggled to pull his hand away, but the attempt was futile.

“I’m more of a Green Day, Nirvana, and My Chemical Romance, type of person. I’m also into some rap, too,” he replied.

“You’re music taste is better than I expected,” Newt commented, still trying to pull his arm away from Minho. Eventually, the latter relented, and Newt was able to free his arm. 

“Do you have the same taste in music?” 

Newt shook his head. “I’m in the rock music spectrum, but I consider myself to be more indie. I also have a dash of dark synthetic pop and EDM.”

Minho looked surprised.

“So Twenty One Pilots and the 1975?”

Newt nodded. The two of them then proceeded to get into an argument to determine whether or not the two bands could be considered to be indie, or not. There was a lot of evidence brought up, such as the facts that they were not underground, and were played on the radio, but the music was different from other typical rock music because it did not conform to the stereotypical alternative genre.

What happened next occurred unknowingly to Newt. The two of them began to then have a general conversation about their interests. They exchanged stories about what happened in their lives. Minho retold stories about adventures he and Brenda had during high school, while Newt told stories about the drunkards that would appear at the bar. Then the topic of family appeared. Minho described his large family, who was close to every member within it. Newt was speechless, but the alcohol he had consumed while conversing with Minho had loosened him up a bit, and he told Min his whole backstory, including how his mother had died from leukemia, how his father remarried a younger, obviously greedier, woman, and his escape from a life he did not desire. Minho comforted Newt as silent tears streamed down his face.

Near closing time, the two of them had gotten on the topic of books, and were discussing the theoretical future of a novel they had read.

“Inej, Kaz, Kuwei, Nina, and Jesper are all dead,” Newt simply stated, “Because, blondes for the win.” He smiled cheekily.

“But, Wylan needs Jesper,” Minho whined.

Newt laughed. “Well, yeah. I know that. But, listen to me. Bardugo is a magnificent, but evil being. She’s going to kill at least half of the crew.”

“And that means that Jesper may live.”

“Or Inej, that glorious princess. She’ll probably plot twist the story so we don’t expect the main protagonist’s death. I can see it right now. One half of all of the ships, dead,” Newt sighs a sigh of satisfaction.

“Stop it.” Minho stated, “You demon.”

Newt laughed again.

The two of them then sunk into a state of comfortable silence.

“So when do you want to have our second date?” Minho asked with a smirk.

Newt’s eyes widened in surprise. “What-” Newt stuttered, “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I think I broke your little ‘cover’ of yours. Beneath it, you seem like a distant outcast. But, without it, you’re a happy, little boy with a bubbly and sweet personality. Probably the sweetest I have ever seen.”

Newt felt himself blush.

“So, Isaac,” Minho said intentionally, “When do you want to have our second date?”

Butterflies were flying around Newt’s stomach. Not just because he was being asked out on what seemed to be their second date, but also because, he liked the way his name rolled off of Minho’s tongue. In response to his proposal, Newt replied, “Surprise me.”

Minho shot Newt a nod of approval. “I’ll pick you up at your house at noon. I don’t want you missing your shift.”

They exchanged numbers. Minho left a kiss on Newt’s cheek, and winked at the latter before leaving the premises. He watched him leave Scorch with Aris and follow the crowd outside because the club was closing. Newt sat there, smiling, for what seemed like an eternity. He was then broken out of his state of bliss when Jorge and Thomas approached him. The club was empty.

Tommy was smiling, but his buttons were all off by one, and his hair was a mess. Newt wondered what Aris did to his friend. On the other hand, Jorge has an unreadable expression on his face. Newt didn’t know if he should be afraid or not.

“Wow,” Tommy began, “I see you met Minho.”

“He’s a nice boy, isn’t he?” Jorge added. 

Newt was getting suspicious of the tone the two men were using.

“Spit it out,” Newt said.

“What are you talking about?” Thomas asked, acting clueless.

“Really?” Newt said, “You think acting dumb is going to work on me?”

Tommy looked towards Jorge.

“I know his parents. We went to highschool together, and kept in touch ever since. We decided that if the two of you weren’t married to someone else, or in a relationship, you would be married when you turn twenty five. It was intended for Brenda, but because she doesn’t swing that way, the offer went to you,” Jorge stated with the slightest bit of amusement.

Newt’s eyes nearly popped out of his sockets. “Does he know?”

Jorge stared at him with disappointment. “Do you think I’m stupid? Of course he doesn’t know! It was intended to be a surprise.”

“I hate you all.”

“We love you too,” Thomas replied, slapping Newt’s back, “And, I’d like to mention one thing.”

The three of them walked out side.

“And what is that?”

“He broke your cover.”

A small smile appeared on Newt’s face.

“I know,” he replied, quietly.

 

**Afterwards: Two Years Later**

Everyone was hanging out at Jorge’s home to celebrate the Fourth of July. Things had changed significantly.

As a bartender, Newt was more outgoing with people, and found himself enjoying his job more.As a result, Jorge thought Newt was ready, and after Jorge retired, Newt had taken over the Scorch. Jorge found himself getting too tired for the responsibilities of the club. He had earned enough money to retire, and wanted to be present while his kids got older. Newt still lived with Jorge because Jorge seemed to enjoy Newt’s presence and having an extra pair of arms around the house.

Across the yard, Aris was sitting on top of Thomas’s legs. They were happily dating. While on the topic of relationships, Brenda and Theresa got engaged.

Chuck, Kara, and Alec were running around, trying to catch each other.

Newt was next to Theresa, talking about some recent events, when Newt felt two strong arms curl around him. He turned around and was met with a facefull of hair. 

“Hey,” Minho murmured against Newt’s neck.

“Hey,” Newt replied. In the corner of his eye, he was Theresa walk away to talk to Thomas. The two of them had traded in their rift of awkward and disinterest for being best friends.

Newt had to admit the best part of no longer having a cover was Minho. Minho was probably going to be the death of me. The day after they first met, the two of them had gotten lunch at a local cafe, and that was when Newt told his now boyfriend that they were betrothed. Minho had nearly choked on his sandwich, and seemed traumatized. It was still hilarious, nonetheless. With the obvious connection between them, it didn’t take long for the two of them to actually start dating.

Newt did admit to himself, that he should have stayed in Brighton, and done as Minho explained to him that one night. If he had, he would have earned millions, and lived the rest of his life in luxury. But then, his life would be boring. Waking up every day to the fresh smell of lavender from the back yard was all he needed, not a house of gold. He also realized that he wouldn’t be the person he was today. He wouldn’t have learned how to utilize his true talents. The hardships he experienced shaped him as a person. He wouldn’t feel truly loved again, and wouldn’t have had learned how to love. But most importantly, he wouldn’t have met Minho, and his true family.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By [carativereflection](http://carativereflection.tumblr.com) ([ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/carativereflection/pseuds/carativereflection))

"But most importantly, he wouldn't have met Minho and his true family."

Newt snorted at Thomas's tale, but held back a full blown laugh if only not to disturb the look of wonder on Sabrina's face. She was sat on her uncle Tommy's lap, rapt in attention as he retold the story of how her daddies had gotten together.

(with proper amounts of embellishment, because 'Newt moved to San Diego for university and Minho spilled three gallons of salad dressing on him' wasn't nearly so enchanting, if infinitely more accurate)

Sabrina's squeaky voice let loose a torrent of questions, but Newt let the sound mix into the night air. He breathed deep, taking in the smell of gunpowder and charcoal and warm. Around them, a hundred other families sat clustered on blankets and lawn chairs, circled around the lake in the town center park.

Newt leaned forward, reaching for Geno's seat and peering down at their newest little family member. The boy was sound asleep, his thick tufts of hair laid gently over his forehead, disturbed only slightly by the pair of tiny earmuffs he wore. Newt was about to reach forward and readjust them, make sure they served their purpose and let Geno sleep through the fireworks, when a large form plopped down at his side.

"Hot dog, babe?" Minho said, the words muffled by a mouthful of food. 

Newt turned to find a boxful of food shoved into his lap.

"Pass that down to Thomas," Minho said, and once Newt was free of his burden, the dark haired man tossed him a bottle of Sprite, setting their own food between them.

"Tommy's tellin' stories again," Newt said, leaning close to Minho to be heard over the rabble of the crowd.

Minho leaned forward and look toward Thomas and Sabrina, seated on the other side of the blanket. Tommy was still talking animatedly, and Sabrina was still staring at him, eyes wide. Neither had even noticed the arrival of food.

Minho shook his head and took another huge bite from his hot dog, a glob of mustard slipping free and landing on his shorts.

"I can't believe you're letting that fabulist fill our little girl's head with lies," Minho said. 

"Glad to see that word of the day calendar I got you is being put to use," Newt nudged Minho and reached for a hot dog. "And don't complain; he always makes you sound like a bloody knight in shinin' armor."

"True," Minho said, then a sly grin overtook his face. He leaned close, sneaking a hand to rest against the small of Newt's back. "Does that make you a princess?"

Newt let out a sound of disgust and rolled his eyes, but he leaned into Minho's touch. It was a warm night, but there was something in the other man's contact, a kind of warmth that transcended the physical, that always made him crave it regardless of the outside conditions.

Even here, in a crowd of hundreds of people, Minho could make Newt feel like he was the only one who mattered.

"You know..." Minho whispered, mouth close enough to Newt's ear that he could feel his hot, wet breath with every word. The hand on his back rubbed in idle circles, and this combination of sensations make Newt shiver.  "I bet we can get him to take the kids tonight."

Newt hummed, leaning further into the touch, letting his head rest against Minho's shoulder. "Dunno about that," he said. "'Resa's been at the ER all buggin' day. Prob'ly wants her man to herself when she gets home."

"A real pity, because I would love--"

Minho's words were cut off with a loud whistle, and, a moment later, a deep rumble as the sky exploded in a shower of sparks. 

"Daddy! Papa!" Sabrina squealed from their side, having jumped up from Thomas's lap to hop excitedly at the sight of the fireworks. "Lookit, it's starting! So pretty..."

Newt chuckled, amused by how some sparkly lights could steal away a child's attention so easily. He turned to Minho to comment on this, but found a similar look of joy and interest on his husband's face.

Newt snuggled closer to Minho, feeling the man's arm tighten around his back even though his attention remained on the sky. Above them, the fireworks flew. Color, light, shapes, smoke, all filled the air and reflected off the still surface of the lake. Save for the whistles and bangs of the explosives, the park around them had gone strangely quiet.

Newt reached for Geno, pulling the baby and his carrier closer, smiling when he saw the infant still blissfully asleep.

Maybe there was a little truth in Tommy's stories, in spite of all the exaggerations and outright lies. After all... 

There was nowhere he'd rather be than here, in Minho's arms.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By [00250](http://00250.com) ([ao3](http://archiveofourown.org/users/sulfuric))

There was nowhere he’d rather be than here, in Minho’s arms.

It was something Newt longed for, almost constantly even when it was technically already happening.

It was just a little unfortunate that circumstances prevented Newt from being alive for the duration of said holding. Or, for any matter, actually physically present, either. It was really only a makeshift grave that Minho was holding, or rather, kind of draped over, but Newt could pretend, alright? It was the closest he’d had to any sort of comfort from Minho since before he’d been taken from the Berg, and almost quite certainly the most he’d have ever again. 

Being dead was really putting a damper the whole relationship thing.

Then again, remaining alive, as a crank, probably wouldn’t have been any better, if not worse. It had taken Newt every ounce of strength he could muster in that moment to tell Minho to leave him at the crank palace, well aware that he would never see him again. Or not in that life, anyway. Yet seeing Minho now, sobbing softly over Newt’s own grave, was a thousand times harder to endure than that dreadful moment in the bowling alley. 

Even though this scene playing out in front of him was nearly a daily occurrence, it never got any easier. Ever since the first day in paradise when Tommy had built the grave, (grave meaning a crudely constructed cross upright in the dirt, Newt’s name carved across it, not unlike the ones from the deadheads back in the glade) Newt could never seem to venture far. It probably had to do with his spirit being tied to the object, a random fact from the past Newt’s brain decided to keep. He had long since decided it was for the better, being stuck out a pretty far ways into the forest - seeing Minho, among the few remaining gladers, for just brief periods of time was emotionally taxing enough. 

Besides, Newt kind of liked the forest. It reminded him of the one back in the glade, where so many of the memories he ran through each day called home. It was there that he and Minho shared their very first kiss, where they’d spent countless nights lying on their backs in the long grass just looking up at the stars. Maybe if Newt had been immune, they’d have done the same there. But for now, in this life, Newt would have to settle for tears and silence and pieces of wood strung haphazardly together. 

And it wasn’t as if he hadn’t tried to communicate with Minho, or Thomas. He’d tried to leave the forest, to go see the camp the survivors had set up. He’d even tried yelling his feelings out at anyone who’d come by his grave, in hopes it would somehow deem his soul redeemed or finished or _whatever_ so that he could just move on to whatever came next. None of it had worked.

_Tommy, jesus, it’s alright, I bloody forgive ya._

_Don’t worry, Fry. Woulda been worse if I stayed a crank._

_I still love you, Min. I always will. I’m right here._

Of course, none of them heard Newt, nor did Newt ascend to some higher plane of being. It was almost as infuriating as it was painful. Each one of them came with a different brand of grief: Thomas always in tears, whimpering apologies. Frypan never said much, just sat there. Even Brenda and Jorge had come once, tiny dandelions in their hands. Minho was the worst, though - he could sit in silence in front of Newt’s grave for hours, unmoving. Sometimes, like today, he would cry. Sometimes, he would ramble off the happenings of the camp, because he knew that Newt would want to know what was going on with everyone (and he did). Sometimes, he would just talk to Newt.

And sometimes, like today, Newt would talk back.

“Frypan’s starting to get a bit frustrated with the track-hoes - well, garderners. We don’t call them track-hoes anymore. The whole system is still a little shaky.” Minho sighs, taking a deep breath. “Woulda been better with you in charge, probably.”

Newt smiles at Minho, wishing he could see what was right in front of him. “Yeah, you know I never liked that job anyway.”

The wind blows softly, and Minho allows himself an exhale of a laugh. “You hated that job.” 

Newt wishes he could just break through the barrier between them and hold Minho’s hand in his, but he knows it’s impossible. Maybe in another life, they’d get their second chance. But for now, with silent tears and a whispered “I love you” falling from Minho’s lips, Newt would have to manage with what he had. 


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> By [kawaii-kettu](http://kawaii-kettu.com)

For now, with silent tears and a whispered “I love you” falling from Minho’s lips, Newt will have to manage with what he had. 

They’ve been friends for as long as Newt can remember. They know each other inside out. They’ve seen the other at his best and at his worst, after failed exams, crashing your first car into a fence and scoring the top spot at Running Regionals. Yes, Newt knows Minho probably better than his own mother, probably better than Minho himself.

All these years make him an expert on what is or isn’t proper Minho behavior.

Minho Park doesn’t crumble. Minho Park’s smile doesn’t falter. Minho Park is the kind of star that never stops shining, no matter what kind of storm hits.

Minho Park doesn’t come banging at your door in the middle of the night, clenched teeth and cheeks mottled with tears and dirt, a broken, drunken love confession on his lips (a love confession that Newt isn’t even sure is not just a fantasy brought at the worst time by his shucking rotten brain).

It  feels surreal, incomprehensible, unnatural to find Minho, on his front door, looking broken and lost, this can’t be happening. It should not be happening.

So Newt doesn’t ask questions, doesn’t pressure his friend for what happened, what prompted him to come banging on his door in the middle of the night, his hair and clothes a mess. He doesn’t press for explanations, he only frowns as dread crushes his heart and he holds the other boy close. He lets Minho clutch Newt’s arms so fiercely there will be bruises tomorrow for sure; he doesn’t try to make him release his hold. Instead, he gently takes Minho to his tiny living room and manages to make him sit down on his ragged couch, which is an achievement in itself, since the Asian is now barely responding.

Minho stares out at the shadows; he looks lost, shaken beyond repair. When he refuses coffee, refuses beer, refuses vodka, Newt kneels in front of him, reaches for his face and traces the hard lines that exhaustion imprinted under his eyes. He wishes he could understand what’s going on just by looking at Minho’s haunted eyes.

But he can’t.

Newt settles next to Minho on his broke-ass couch and Minho stays silent, although he does acknowledge his friend’s support, in his own Minho-ish way: he draws Newt with one arm, so that they end up tangled together, Newt’s back to Minho’s chiseled chest. Newt would laugh at how uncomfortable it all is if A) he wasn’t relieved to have Minho finally starting to react and B) this wasn’t also somewhat nice, Minho’s warmth seeping through their clothes.

They stay like this, in silence, for god knows how long. Newt can feel Minho’s body gradually relaxing; his fingers keep playing with Newt’s hair and the British boy finds himself smiling tiredly.

Dawn is coming on its tiptoes as Newt hums a rock song they’ve listened to countless times as teenagers.

The new day and the song are enough to bring a miracle:

“Stop it shank, you’re gonna make it rain.”

“You’re a bloody grateful lad, aren’t you?”

He’s surprised by Minho’s answering glance; he expected a joke in reply, the usual banter, instead he gets an hesitating, gauging look. It’s the same look Minho had that day when they were barely nine, right before he gathered up courage and jumped from the highest cliff in the neighborhood, straight into a lake.

Minho’s kiss is unexpected (okay, so maybe Newt didn’t know Minho as good as he thought) but it’s far from being unwanted. Minho actually stops for a while as he realizes that Newt is answering. He lets out an incredulous but pleased little laugh: Newt rolls his eyes and brings him close again. 

The kisses feel right, even though Minho’s lips taste of blood and salt and morning breath. They convey strength and life and promises for more.

It isn’t until breakfast this day, as they lazily hang out at Frypan’s terrace, that Newt comments:

“I remember rambling to Lizzy countless times about how unfair it was to have a best friend that was hot as hell and straight as an arrow. She kept saying that you may look like the perfect dessert but if you were put on display to lure and not feed the hungry I should go to another bakery.”

Minho chuckles at that, sipping his coffee, his eyes twinkling with amusement (no doubt Lizzie will hear about that in the near future.) 

The Asian could answer that he’s glad Newt stayed by his side nevertheless, that they remained friends until they could become more. Instead, he sobers up. His smile grows a little guarded and suddenly, Newt gets the answer to the questions he didn’t ask:

“Eomma doesn’t want me to come back home anymore.”

Newt’s eyes widen for a fraction of a second. Minho doesn’t look up from his coffee; his whole body visibly tensing up, but he elaborates in a controlled voice:

“We had a fight. I had to make a choice.”

At this, he finally looks up, his eyes meeting Newt’s :

“And I chose you.”


End file.
